Thursday, July 30, 2015


She swims,
in between the waters,
with a fear-
of being pulled down by a whirlpool,
into an obscure space -
where no man or woman shall land.

She swims,
in between the waters,
with a fear-
of being washed ashore -
on a distant unfamiliar island,
with no reason to bring a twinkle in her eyes.

Against these extremes-
for the refugee with trembling lips
and a mind that speaks of the years-
without love-
in-between promises to be a safe haven.

The in-between,
with water above and below her
shall wrap her in comfort and
 will give her a space to hide.
All she needs is the balance.
Don't ask for the heights and
don't give less of herself to the water.

There is hope in her limbs-
and she thinks this hope,
will let her swim,
swim without asking more.
But the water has its ways-
It makes her dream in it's arms-
of the flamboyant boats,
of the rocks behind the rainbow
and sunrise amongst the corals.
She grows tired of the in-between.

With every new dream,
desire adds its weight to the state of affairs.
It puts pressure on her limbs to soar high
Her limbs feel the fatigue
And with each dream remaining a dream
She lets go a bit.

The dream is too distant
That walk on the beach holding hands-
an illusion.
Reality strikes with a gentle whisper-
let go, let go.
And she does-
ready to embrace,
the dark bottom
or the island without dreams.

Was the in-between better?
Who knows?